Archive of Our Own

🦔 

See, Martin’s day starts off as a normal off-day afternoon. Don’t get him wrong, he still had two mid term exams today, and had three essays which he managed to submit in the nick of time courtesy to Juhoon ruining his own sleep to help him all night. 

He’s stuffing loaded fries in his mouth at his favourite New York deli of foods which lead mankind directly on the road to diabetes and clogged arteries. 

Martin’s scrolling through his phone with his free hand when his skin starts tingling, hair on his arms and neck standing up in attention.

He groans. He’s not even halfway done yet.

“Fuck off, this better be good.” He grumbles to himself and stuffs the money for his now wasted fries beneath the napkin holder and makes his way out on the street. 

Then he sees him: a man in all black approaching a bank on the other side of the road very menacingly. He is in a classic movie get-up, from his black hoodie to the bandana tied over his mouth. The man almost looks comical.

Martin quickly makes his way to a lone alleyway and webs his way up the roof of a residential building, changing into the tell -tale blue and red.. costume? He always cringes calling it that but the media and public love it. 

He paused for five seconds in silent mourning over the delicious fries (hey, he’s a broke college student. $5 is a lot when being the friendly neighborhood hero doesn’t pay anything monetarily. Sue him. ) when he hears a gunshot in close vicinity. 

It takes him about five seconds to web swing his way to the bank. 

“Oh!”

The robber whisks around in alarm and immediately points his gun at Martin. So much for introductions.

“Hey, not cool.” Martin raises his hands in surrender and approaches him as slowly as possible. “We can talk this out, sweet cheeks.”

“Stay the fuck where you are!”

“Alright, let’s just stay calm.” Martin’s eyes flicker down from the guy’s ridiculous black bandana to the suspicious bulge in his pants that is definitely another weapon. “Is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Wha–”

Martin uses the split second of confusion to shoot a web at the gun in his hand, slinging it away from him and sending it skidding across the floor. Martin can sense him about to grab the other gun in his pants before he actually does, shooting another web to stick to the handle peeking over his waistband and plastering it to the wall behind him.

“Huh. I guess you weren’t happy to see me.”

🦔 

So this was his life.

Saving people as Spider-Man after he was bitten by a spider years ago. Juggling his last two years left in university as a double major in aeronautical engineering and music theory, a near-inhuman workload. 

Still. None of it felt as exhausting as having to hide his double life from his best friend slash roommate – Kim Juhoon.

Now look, Martin will never complain about the sense of benevolence he feels when he saves lives and kicks his enemies ball’s. He’s an eighteen year old boy, of course he feels good about it. 

But he never wished to be Spiderman. 

He got bitten by a spider in his first semester university. It was uneventful.

In the basement lab of his university’s chemistry wing—he’d been drumming against the table with two pencils of mismatched lengths, bored out of his mind, and hadn’t noticed the beady, sandy eyes until it was too late. He flicked it off. Went back to drumming.

The next morning, his vision was sharper. He climbed the bathroom wall by sneezing. He almost told Juhoon—until he accidentally broke the faucet just by gripping it too hard. He didn’t want to accidentally break Juhoon too.

He didn’t panic. He’d planned to study it. Document it. Apply for a research grant. 

And here he is now, one and a half years later, still stuck in the mess. Suited up at odd hours, crawling over skyscrapers, dodging bullets, punching people who should’ve been too big to punch.

It’s not all bad.

🦔 

It is dark by the time Martin reaches back to his dorms after the bank robbery fiasco. He feels so tired. 

Actively concussed which, honestly, counted as a fantastic night these days.

He didn’t even realise that the process of defeating the robber and holding him down while the police comes had lasted almost an hour. And then on his way back, a guy with some kind of electric gauntlets had decided that making trains crash by fucking with their electricity was an excellent idea, and Martin had spent most of the evening getting chased across rooftops while trying not to become human barbecue.

Now all he wants is his bed.

He lands on the roof of the dormitory with a soft thud.

The city stretches around him in a haze of lights. Cool wind brushes against his mask.

For a moment he just stands there.

Then he peels the mask off with a groan, rubbing at his face.

"God."

His hair immediately spring in twelve different directions.

He stuffs the suit into the backpack he'd hidden behind an air conditioning unit, changes into a hoodie and sweatpants, and takes a moment to appreciate the fact that nobody was around to witness how ridiculous he looked.

Then he crosses the roof.

The fourth-floor window of his and Juhoon's room is cracked open.

Easy.

A web attaches itself to the roof edge, and Martin swings down. He reaches the window and settles automatically onto the sill, both feet balanced on the narrow ledge, knees bent, fingertips resting against the frame.

From a good enough distance, he probably looks like a gargoyle.

Martin stares blankly into the room. His exhausted brain is running on approximately three remaining brain cells:

1. Sleep

2. Food. Probably some fries.

3. Sleep.

Suddenly, the door cracks open. 

"Mars? You're back?"

Martin's soul leaves his body. He whips around so fast he nearly gives himself a whiplash. 

Juhoon stands frozen in the doorway.

Martin freezes too.

For three horrifying seconds they simply stares at each other. Martin sees it clearly, how Juhoon’s eyes travel from Martin’s face → the window → the four story drop outside → Martin’s feet. Balanced on a ledge approximately the width of a textbook.

“What the fuck.” Juhoon deadpans, before he realises what’s actually happening. “Martin!”

Martin winces.

"What?"

"The fuck do you mean what?!”

"You seem upset."

"You are on the windowsill, you moron! Get down!"

“Okay, okay. Dude, chill.”

Martin pushes his hands up in surrender, finally stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Do you have a death wish?” Juhoon scolds him as he walks up to stand in front of him, hands on his hips. It is so unusual to see Juhoon be so hyper. Martin cannot remember the last time he saw Juhoon’s voice surpass 5 decibels. Martin whines and pushes his face into Juhoon’s sweatshirt, mumbling the words into the soft fabric.

“If I do not sleep in the next two minutes, you may as well watch me die. Can we shelf this conversation for tomorrow?”

“I-what– you were on the windowsill for god’s sake, like a – monkey. Do you know how dangerous that could’ve been for you? You were one fall away from being on tomorrow’s news headline! When will you being so – Martin?”

He looks down to see Martin asleep against his sweatshirt, snoring quietly and cheeks squished comically against him. 

Juhoon rubs at the bridge of his nose. He gently lays him down on his bed and covers him with a blanket. “You’re impossible.” He mumbles softly.

When Martin finally wakes up twelves hours later, he finds the window sill now lined up with Juhoon’s plush toys. He laughs softly, shaking his head. 

It’s okay, he’s Spiderman. He’ll find another way to come home from now on. 

🦔 

It had barely been a month of Martin adapting to spider life alone and learning his ways, when Jeongguk showed up at his dorm — in a long trench coat and dress pants. Juhoon was visiting family so Martin invited him in. Not before asking him who he was, though.

“I’m a retired Spiderman. Useless things aside, you’ve been leaving residue on the rooftops,” Jeongguk said flatly. “Your enemies can track that.”

“I see.”

“…Well, we’re here for a reason.”

He offered to help him. Offered him a suit. Told him the rules.

Martin said no. Too messy. Too noisy. It got in the way of more important things, like reading in peace, and making it to his group’s band practices. The latter wouldn’t be that important to him but it’s important for Juhoon so it’s important to him. 

But then his grandmother died.

And suddenly everything stopped.

His routines. His clarity. The shape of his life.

Juhoon had shown up at the funeral, wide-eyed and sympathetic, holding his hand with flowers from a corner shop.

Jeongguk had been there too. Standing just out of the way, giving him an imploring look.

“You have the power to change things,” he said. “You don’t get to walk away from that.”

He talked about the Greater Good. Like that meant something.

Martin didn’t argue at the time. He was emotional, grieving.

In a moment of weakness, he said yes.

And the rest is history.

🦔 

Martin has a lot of words to describe Juhoon – smart, creative, perseverant, kind, pretty, stubborn, adaptable, you know, the list goes on. 

Punctual, however, is not one of those words. 

One too many times he has seen Juhoon running his way to class. Jumping over walls to cut time and energy. He cannot remember the last time Juhoon had enough time before class to walk out of their dorms from the actual campus entry gate, the security wall right in front of their dorms being much more frequented. 

But this tardiness is unfortunately not limited only for classes. Be it events, practice, clubbing nights, lunch dates with their friend group, Juhoon for some reason can never conquer time. Keonho regularly places bets for Juhoon to be the last person to arrive for their plans. 

Martin, having good faith in his best friend, bets for the contrary. He’s lost $105 till now. 

Even when he’s Spider-Man, Martin will be swinging through New York and right in the middle of the streets he will sometimes see a mop of brown fluffy hair, haphazardly running through the streets trying to make it to god-knows-what on time.

It’s not like he stalks Juhoon in his free time when he’s meandering about the streets of New York as Spider-Man in his free time. He just.. happens to be in places Juhoon is in at times. Frequently. 

But this time he really is quite minding his own business. He was hanging upside down from under a bridge, staring up at the water that flowed above his head. The headrush feels amazing when he’s upside down, sue him. 

The text comes in at 11:47 p.m.

juju: where r u??

Immediately, his stomach sinks.

Because he forgot.

Again.

Tonight was supposed to be a quick patrol, but then came a robbery at and old lady’s place, then the old lady did not let him go until he took some of her cookies, then there was a chase, then a guy with a flamethrower.

And somehow it’s almost midnight.

Martin sighs and types back.

me: library

The typing indicator appears instantly.

juju: liar

Martin winces.

me: studying

juju: you literally hate studying

Another message follows before Martin can answer.

juju: also i just walked through the library

juju: ur not there

me: what are you, sherlock holmes? stop pestering me, go to sleep 

juju: i’m locked out btw

juju: forgot my key

juju: dorm office is closed

juju: considering what to do now, im too pretty for the streets

juju: :/

Martin rubs his face.

Of course. Of course Juhoon gets locked out.

He checks the time again.

11:49pm.

“Unbelievable.”

Then he fires a web and launches himself into the night.

By the time Martin reaches campus, he spots Juhoon immediately.

And immediately feels his blood pressure spike. The dorm roof access is closed for the night. Juhoon has somehow managed to get up there anyway.

And instead of waiting safely near the door, he’s sitting on the edge of the roof.

Actually sitting. Martin cannot believe he was lecturing him about sitting on the windowsill. The idiot’s legs are dangling over seven stories of open air.

Martin stops dead on the rooftop across the street. What the hell is he doing?

Juhoon is in his own world, headphones jammed on his head, kicking his feet absentmindedly, looking out across the city.

Completely unconcerned by the fact that a single slip could send him plummeting.

Idiot.

Martin pulls out and his and considers texting him. He immediately dismisses the idea though when an end plan fails to conjure in his head. Also because Juhoon will absolutely turn around looking for him. And probably fall off the building.

Martin sighs. Then jumps. A web catches. The city blurs as it always does. 

A second later he lands silently on the dorm roof. Juhoon still doesn’t notice him but Martin stalks forward.

“Are you trying to die?”

Juhoon yelps.

His entire body jerks and before both know it, his left foot slips and suddenly everything slows down. 

Martin’s spider-sense explodes before he knows it, and his world narrows down as Juhoon tips backwards towards the edge into empty air. 

Martin moves before he’s consciously aware of moving.

One step turns into two and then a hand is grabbing onto Juhoon’s hoodie and –

Juhoon crashes into him.

Martin wraps an arm around his waist and hauls him backward. Hard. He quickly shoots a web into a nearby wall to avoid both of them crashing down several hundred feet.

For a second they’re both frozen, standing several feet from the ledge. Juhoon looks up at him with wide eyes, panting harshly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Martin snaps.

Juhoon blinks slowly. Like he’s still catching up.

Then he glances behind him and sees the edge. The steep drop. 

“Oh.”

Martin stares.

“Oh?”

Juhoon grimaces.

“Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

“That’s fair?”

“Wow, look at you, President of the debate club.”

Martin drags a hand down his face. He’s unbelievable.

Then he realizes something.

His arm is still around Juhoon’s waist. And Juhoon’s hands are still gripping the front of his suit.

They’re standing way too close. Martin lets go immediately, but still stands closes enough that he’s able to rescue him again if the idiot loses his balance again.

Juhoon doesn’t seem to be paying any attention though, because he’s staring directly at Martin. Well, Spider-Man.

“What?”

Juhoon squints.

“You sound familiar.”

Martin’s heart stops. “What?”

“Your voice.”

Shit shit shit.

Martin immediately drops his voice lower. “What are you talking about?”

But Juhoon keeps staring. Martin can practically see the gears turning. And then suddenly, Juhoon’s face lights up.

“Oh my God.”

Martin prepares for an early death.

“You sound exactly like my lit professor.”

Silence. Martin blinks .

“What?”

“The annoying one.” Juhoon points. “But never mind that. Can I touch your web? Is it really slimey?”

Martin rolls his eyes. He is grateful Juhoon cannot see it from underneath the mask. He quickly changes the subject. “You should probably stop sitting on ledges.”

Juhoon groans. “In my defence—”

“There is no defence.”

“There was a reason.”

Martin folds his arms, waiting. Juhoon points toward the side of the building.

“I was trying to see if our window was open.”

“From the roof.”

“Hey man, we’ve all got our talents.”

Martin shakes his head. “You’re impossible.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. Martin’s stomach drops at the same time he sees Juhoon’s eyes quickly flicking up at him.

Because that phrase. That is their phrase.

Juhoon’s eyes narrow slightly.

“You really do sound familiar.”

“Yeah, your annoying professor. Sucks to be him.” Martin points at the access door. “You should go inside.”

Juhoon steps a little closer, eyes still pinned onto Martin. 

Martin takes a step back. He’s just about to warn Juhoon about walking careless on the edge again, when his Spidey senses tingle again. There’s definitely someone nearby with no good intentions. 

Martin clenches his jaw. He cannot have Juhoon anywhere near potential danger. 

“I have to go. Here, grab onto me. I’ll drop you off to your dorms.”

Juhoon wordlessly takes his hand, and Martin quickly wraps Juhoon’s arm around his neck, and then secures his hand around his waist. 

A web shoots onto the adjacent building, and Martin launches himself into the night, Juhoon held securely against him. 

“Thank you. For saving me from falling.” Juhoon says as Martin gently perches him back on the ground. “I mean, it technically was your fault because I got startled by you and then I –“

“I will take the thanks, you’re welcome.”

Juhoon rolls his eyes. “Fine. Thanks, Spidey.”

Martin’s Spidey senses tingle again and he really needs to get Juhoon inside the door. Whoever is here, is in the campus right now. Martin is not having a good feeling about this. 

“It’s a pleasure. Well, I’ll take my leave now. New York never sleeps, so neither do the crimes.” And then he webs himself up the building. 

Wind cards it’s way through his hair as he finally takes off his mask on the rooftop – now alone. The tingling stops as soon as he reaches the roof. Definitely cryptic, but Martin decides he’ll ponder upon this tomorrow. 

Half an hour later, Martin slips through the door of his and Juhoon’s dorm room, a faint throb in his head from the whole day, all while thinking about the paper he definitely wasn’t going to finish formatting within an hour.

He is already composing the extension email in his head when—

“Martin?”

Juhoon appears from the hallway, toweling his damp hair. He is barefoot, wearing an oversized shirt and striped pajama pants, looking far too at ease for someone who nearly got himself killed today. 

“You won’t believe who I ran into just now.”

Martin feigns ignorance. “Who?”

“Spider-Man.” Juhoon flops dramatically onto their couch. “He dropped me off here, actually. Where were you though?”

Martin formulates about 15 potential replies to that, and after doing a quick SWOT analysis, decides on, “I just wanted to clear my head for a bit. I was taking a walk in Hilton Park. Sorry I forgot to text you back. I made my way back here as soon as I could, but I guess Spider-Man beat me to it.”

“Of course he did, you took forty minutes to get here.” Juhoon shakes his head, before he looks down, as if deep in thought.”

“Jju? What’s with the face?”

“Well. There’s one weird thing that happened, and it only registered to me after he left.”

Martin frowns. Surely he did not leave anything behind, right? Maybe his jacket? Or did Juhoon finally recognise his voice? Wait, calm down. “What?”

“He knew where I lived. When he was dropping me off, I was so focused on the fact that I was swinging in the air that I forgot to tell him where I lived on campus. But he didn’t ask, and he still dropped me off here.”

🦔 

Being assigned as roommates had not immediately made Martin and Juhoon friends.

They got along well enough. Neither of them was rude, and neither caused any serious problems for the other, but for the first few weeks of the semester they existed more like polite strangers sharing a space than two people building a friendship.

Martin was charming by nature. A social butterfly , if you will. He also attended his classes, completed his assignments, went to the gym several times a week, and returned to the dorm with a consistency that bordered on predictable. 

Juhoon, on the other hand, seemed to like his own space and was incapable of sticking to any schedule for more than three days at a time.

Martin would come back from class to find him sprawled upside down on his bed reading a textbook.

Or watching videos while supposedly studying.

The room itself reflected their personalities. Martin’s side remained somewhat organized no matter what happened. Juhoon’s side looked as though a small tornado blazed through it.

Despite all of that, Martin found himself strangely entertained by his roommate.

Martin talked enough for the both of them and Juhoon always seemed content to listen. 

When Juhoon only responded with a nod, Martin carried the conversation anyway.

When Juhoon answered with a single sentence, Martin somehow transformed it into a ten-minute discussion. Ying and Yang, or whatever you call it.

Still, they weren’t exactly friends.

Not yet.

That changed on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon.

Martin had just finished his last lecture of the day and was walking back toward the dormitory with his headphones hanging around his neck. The campus was busy with students moving between classes, and he was already thinking about the assignment waiting for him back in his room.

Then he heard someone cooing.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Martin glanced toward the source of the voice.

At first he didn’t understand what he was looking at.

A small crowd had gathered near one of the large oak trees beside the student center. Several people were standing around with their phones out, some laughing, others simply stared.

Martin’s eyes followed their gazes upward.

A tiny orange kitten was perched on one of the higher branches.

The animal looked terrified, tiny paws clutching onto the branches. Then Martin noticed something else. Or rather, someone else.

Halfway up the tree was Juhoon. Martin stopped walking.

For several seconds he simply stared. His roommate was clinging to the trunk while attempting to crawl farther out onto a branch that looked increasingly unstable the farther he moved.

The kitten let out a distressed meow. Juhoon immediately reached toward it.

“Just a little closer.”

The branch dipped alarmingly beneath his weight, several people below gasped.

Martin sighed. Of course it was Juhoon. 

Who else would see a cat in a tree and decide that the most reasonable solution was to climb after it himself? His oddball of a roommate. Martin pushed through the small crowd.

“What are you doing?”

Juhoon looked down.

“Oh, hey, Martin.”

“What are you doing?” Martin repeated.

“The kitten’s stuck.”

“I can see that.”

“So I’m rescuing it.”

Martin pinched the bridge of his nose. The logic was impossible to argue with. Unfortunately, that didn’t make it any less stupid.

The kitten meowed again, and Juhoon’s expression softened immediately.

“See? It sounds scared.”

“You’re in a tree.”

“I know where I am.”

Martin looked at the branch beneath him.

“Broski, I don’t think you do.”

Juhoon followed his gaze. The branch creaked loudly underneath his feet, and for the first time, uncertainty appeared on his face.

“Okay,” he admitted. “Maybe this is slightly higher than I thought.”

“Juhoon, get down.”

“I can’t leave him.”

Martin looked up at the kitten. The animal was small enough to fit inside two hands. Judging by the nervous way it was crouched against the branch, it couldn’t have been very old.

Martin shrugged. He might as well.

“Stay where you are.”

Juhoon’s eyebrows lifted. “Wait. Are you actually helping?”

“What do you think.”

“You are.”

“I’m preventing you from breaking your neck.”

Juhoon smiled. It was a tiny little thing, but it transformed his entire face. Something about it made Martin’s irritation slightly less effective.

Before he could think too hard about that, Martin shrugged off his backpack and handed it to a nearby student.

Then he started climbing.

Unlike Juhoon, he actually knew what he was doing. At least enough to avoid putting his weight on branches that looked ready to snap. His body’s natural on-command stickiness definitely helped.

Within a minute he had climbed high enough to reach Juhoon.

“What are you, a monkey?” Juhoon asked. Martin ignored him and glanced toward the kitten.

The animal stared back.

Then it hissed. Martin frowned. “Dude, seriously?”

The kitten hissed again.

Juhoon giggled, and Martin quickly shot him a dirty look in response.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t.”

The kitten apparently decided Martin was less threatening than the situation it was currently in because it finally allowed him to move closer.

Carefully, Martin extended a hand.

The animal hesitated.

Then it stepped forward. A few moments later he had it tucked securely against his chest. The moment both of them reached the ground, the kitten immediately crawled from Martin’s arms into Juhoon’s.

Whatever, dogs are better anyway.

Juhoon cradled the animal against his chest as though he’d just been entrusted with something priceless.

The kitten immediately began purring.

“Oh, that’s it,” Juhoon said. “You’re mine now.”

“Aww, that’s cute. You do know we’re not allowed to keep pets, right?”

The kitten rubbed its head against his chin. Martin had to admit they looked oddly suited to one another. A little messy. A little ridiculous.

When Juhoon looked up, he caught Martin watching.

His smile softened.

“Thanks.”

Martin shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was to him.” Juhoon glanced down at the kitten. “And to me.”

For the first time since they’d become roommates, the conversation felt meaningful. The both of them had never been awkward with each other, but this definitely felt like an... improvement.

Like something had quietly shifted between them. Juhoon adjusted the kitten in his arms.

Neither of them knew it then, but it would be one of those moments they looked back on years later—the day they stopped being roommates and started becoming friends.

 🐢 

Juhoon is curled on the couch when the front door creaks open. He knows who it is but he tries not to pay much mind to it. He was angry at Martin. It’s been three hours since Martin cut his call mid-way and then completely stopped replying to his calls and texts.

He doesn’t move.

Doesn’t look.

But he hears the shuffle of boots. The muted clunk of a bag being set down.

Juhoon turns around and –

Martin stands in the doorway, messy hair flattened at the sides, dirt along the edge of his jaw, sleeves rolled up and wrinkled, a faint scratch near his temple.

“Oh.” Martin stares at him, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “I thought you went to Seonghyeon’s. Sorry.”

And Juhoon just—stares.

Because Martin is apologizing?

Before he can speak, Martin steps further in, slow.

“I know what it looks like. It’s–It’s not as bad as it looks. I got mugged.”

Juhoon sits upright, heart stopping.

“What? Why—what?”

“I’m okay, I swear,” Martin says, squinting. “Nothing much happened, I’m okay. I was just walking alone in an alley and these two kids jumped me.”

Juhoon storms towards him, his earlier anger from being ghosted turning into anger from Martin’s stupidity. “You’re so stupid. Why were you walking alone at night? What if something serious happened?!”

“It didn’t.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Only my arm,” Martin says, raising it slightly. He winces as the cut on his stomach jostles. “Mostly my arm.”

Juhoon circles him, inspecting anyway—eyes trailing everywhere. Then he stands in front of the man, arms crossed. Martin just stands there. As if waiting for something.

“You’re lucky you got out with both arms intact,” Juhoon snaps. “You reek. Go take a shower.”

Martin nods quietly. But before Juhoon can turn away—

A hand curls around his wrist.

Gentle.

“I’m… sorry,” Martin says again, voice rougher now. “For not messaging you. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Juhoon freezes. Turns back to Martin again.

Because Martin never apologized. Has too big of an ego for his small head.

And yet here he is, dirt-smudged, tired, sincere. Apologized twice.

Juhoon’s frown cracks.

He sighs, defeated.

“Come on,” he mutters, tugging on Martin’s arm. “You probably can’t get your bandages wet, right? I’ll help you out.”

Martin blinks.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up.” Juhoon drags him to the bathroom. “Let me be nice before I change my mind.”

And Martin doesn’t resist. Just follows.

And in the bathroom—

“Wait. When did you get so… muscly? You don’t even go to the gym. You sit. And read. And drink cheap alcohol in parties. Doesn’t alcohol make you fat?”

“I carry you when you pass out on wine.”

“Okay, rude. That happens like rarely.”

“I have stats that say otherwise.”

“Ugh.”

Juhoon continues lathering his hair, cheeks warm and suddenly far too aware of the curve of Martin’s shoulders and the way water beaded along his back.

“Lie your head back more.”

Martin obeys.

“I didn’t think you’d be this calm.”

“You’re just washing my hair.”

“I could drown you.”

“I wouldn’t stop you.”

What did that even mean? Focus, Juhoon!

“You’re lucky I like you clean,” Juhoon muttered.

Martin tilted his head, water streaming down his neck.

“You like me?”

Juhoon’s hands stilled.

And Martin, damn him—sounded almost smug.

“You know what I mean.”

“Mm,” Martin hummed.

“You’re impossible.”

Martin smiled, eyes closed.

 🐢 

It starts happening entirely by accident.

Or at least, that’s what Juhoon tells himself.

The first time, he’s running twenty minutes late to his literature lecture because he’d stayed up until three in the morning binge-watching a reality show he doesn’t even like. He’s halfway across campus, backpack bouncing against his shoulders, when he hears a familiar voice from somewhere above him.

“You’re going to be late.”

Juhoon nearly trips over his own feet.

Spider-Man is perched on the side of a building.

Just casually.

As though hanging several feet above the ground is a perfectly normal thing to do.

Juhoon squints up at him.

“How do you know where I’m going?”

Spider-Man immediately points in the opposite direction.

“Uh. I don’t.”

“That’s the engineering building.”

There’s a pause.

Then Spider-Man points somewhere else.

“You’re going there.”

“That’s the library.”

Another pause.

“You’re late for something.”

Juhoon smiles despite himself. “Very observant.”

Spider-Man folds his arms. “Hey, do you want help or not?”

Five minutes later, Juhoon finds himself being carried through the air. He spends the entire trip alternating between exhilaration and sheer terror.

The campus rushes beneath them. Wind tears through his hair. One of Spider-Man’s arms is secured around his waist while the other shoots webs between buildings with a precision that feels impossible.

Juhoon screams exactly once.

By the time they’re landing on the roof of his lecture hall, Juhoon’s legs feel like jelly.

“There.”

Spider-Man sounds far too pleased with himself.

Juhoon spends the entire lecture smiling whenever he thinks about Spiderman’s hands on his waist.

The second time happens a week later. Then a third. Then a fourth.

At some point, it becomes a thing, something both of them acknowledge without saying anything out loud.

But somehow Spider-Man keeps appearing whenever Juhoon is late. Which is unfortunately often. Sometimes he drops onto the sidewalk beside him. Sometimes he appears on a rooftop overhead.

Once he literally hangs upside down from a fire escape and nearly gives Juhoon a heart attack.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Good morning.”

“It is eight a.m.”

“And?”

“You can’t just appear like that.”

Spider-Man tilts his head.

“I literally can.”

Juhoon hates how hard he is trying not to smile.

🐢 

The crush sneaks up on him. That’s the embarrassing part.

He doesn’t realize it’s happening until one afternoon when James asks why he’s smiling at his phone.

Juhoon looks down.

There’s a photograph circulating online of Spider-Man and Juhoon from media tabloids. Spider-Man to the rescue!. Little do they know Juhoon wanted some strawberry ice cream and Spider-Man appeared just at the right moment. 

“Nothing,” he says.

James narrows his eyes.

“That’s a lie.”

Unfortunately, it is.

Because the truth sounds ridiculous.

The truth is that he likes talking to Spider-Man. Rarely, if both of them have the time, Spider-Man perches him on a makeshift web hammock between two buildings and they talk about random factoids. Last week they debated over boy bands.

“NSYNC is obviously better.”

“Say that again and I will drop you from my web.”

The truth is that every encounter leaves him smiling afterward. The truth is that his heart does something weird whenever he spots red and blue in the distance.

It’s a crush. A stupid one at that.

But it’s definitely growing.

The strangest part isn’t the crush itself.

The strangest part is that Spider-Man keeps reminding him of someone.

At first, Juhoon assumes it’s because they’re both around the same age.

Then he notices little things.

His laugh, his sighs. The way he stretches his neck when he’s tired of sitting in one position.

It’s not identical. Just close enough that Juhoon finds himself pausing.

One evening, Spider-Man catches him after he’d missed the last campus shuttle. They’re sitting on top of a parking garage while Juhoon waits for his ride.

The city glows around them.

Spider-Man is perched on the concrete barrier. Juhoon is sitting cross-legged beside him.

“You know,” Juhoon says suddenly, “you remind me of someone.”

Spider-Man immediately chokes. Actually chokes on air.

Juhoon turns.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m fine.”

The response comes far too quickly. Suspiciously quickly.

Juhoon frowns.

Spider-Man turns his face away.

“If I remind you of someone, they must be very handsome.” Juhoon snorts, but looks down nonetheless. 

“Mhm,” he hums. “They are.”

“Wait, really?” Spider-Man turns towards him. “I’m not the hottest guy in your life?”

Juhoon slaps his shoulders.

🐢 

A few days later, Spider-Man drops him off outside the dorm after another rescue from his own poor time management.

The sun is setting, the campus is painted in gold. After a long time, neither of them is in a hurry. Spider-Man lands lightly on the ground.

“There.”

“You know,” Juhoon says, adjusting his backpack, “you’ve become weirdly invested in my academic success.”

Spider-Man shrugs.

“Someone has to be.”

“Rude.”

“It’s true.”

Juhoon opens his mouth to argue.

Then notices the way Spider-Man is standing.

One hip slightly shifted. Arms crossed. Relaxed. Tall and confident in stature. Something about it hits him unexpectedly.

Because for a second, he doesn’t see Spider-Man. He sees Martin leaning against their dorm room desk. Martin waiting for him outside classrooms.

Martin rolling his eyes whenever Juhoon forgets something important. The image disappears almost immediately.

Still.

The feeling lingers.

Spider-Man notices him staring.

“What?”

Juhoon shakes his head.

“Nothing.”

Spider-Man clearly doesn’t believe him. Neither does Juhoon. The problem is that he doesn’t know how to explain it.

How do you tell someone that they remind you of your best friend who you’ve been in love with ever since you met him, in all the smallest ways?

That every conversation feels strangely familiar?

That being around them gives you the same sense of comfort? Juhoon shakes it head. It must be wishful thinking.

Before he can figure out an answer, Spider-Man shoots a web toward a nearby building.

“I should go.”

Juhoon feels an unexpected flash of disappointment.

“Oh.”

Spider-Man hesitates. Just for a second. Then he raises a hand.

“Try not to get locked out again.”

Juhoon smiles. “No promises.”

A laugh crackles through the mask. And there it is again. That familiar sound. That impossible familiarity.

Wishful thinking, wishful thinking, wishful thinking.

Spider-Man swings away before Juhoon can place it.

Juhoon watches until he’s gone. Then he heads inside, still smiling.

When he opens the dorm room door, Martin is sitting at his desk with a textbook open in front of him.

He glances up.

“You’re late.”

The words are ordinary. The tone isn’t.

For a moment, Juhoon pauses. Because the feeling returns. That same strange familiarity.

Spider-Man. Martin. Martin. Spider-Man.

Juhoon shakes his head. He will drive himself crazy if he keeps this up. Martin gives him a questioning look, but Juhoon just smiles.

“Nothing.”

For some reason, Martin looks relieved.

🦔 

Honestly, if you ask Martin, he thinks he hides his undying love for Juhoon pretty well. 

At first, he thought that their polar opposites personalities simply meshed well. And in the beginning he really did think of Juhoon as a good friend. 

But then, as they became closer, casual shoulder hugs turned into Juhoon falling asleep on his shoulder late at night amidst studying. Late night casual banters turned into trauma bonding of losing a loved one – that was when Martin had learnt that Juhoon lost his father a few years ago as well.

Slowly over time, Martin started finding habits of Juhoon which he previously thought to be mundane, adorable. Like his plushies collection, how he means well but struggles with extreme emotions, how he likes mangoes but hates mango flavoured things, how he scrunches his nose when he’s annoyed.

But he believes his first epiphany came during their third semester. 

Martin had been missing for three days.

The first day had been irritating more than anything else. Juhoon had received a vague text around midnight claiming that Martin had to "deal with something" and would be back soon. It wasn't entirely unusual. Martin had developed a habit over the past year of disappearing at odd hours and returning with flimsy excuses. Juhoon had spent months pretending not to notice how strange it was.

By the second day, irritation had turned into worry.

Martin wasn't answering his phone. Every call went straight to voicemail. Every text remained unread. His professors hadn't seen him. The few friends they shared hadn't heard from him either.

Juhoon told himself there had to be a reasonable explanation. Maybe Martin had gone home unexpectedly. Maybe he'd lost his phone. Maybe he was helping someone and had simply forgotten to check in.

The problem was that none of those explanations accounted for the news reports.

A fight had broken out downtown two nights ago. Not a normal fight, but one of the spectacular disasters that inevitably followed Spider-Man wherever he went. Videos flooded social media showing collapsing scaffolding, overturned vehicles, and flashes of explosions between buildings. Multiple civilians injured. The footage was chaotic enough that nobody could tell exactly what had happened.

What everyone could agree on was that Spider-Man had gotten hurt.

Badly.

Witnesses claimed they had seen him fall from several stories up. Others insisted he had staggered away bleeding. No news on Martin, still. 

By the third day, Juhoon couldn't concentrate on anything.

Their dorm room felt wrong without Martin in it. The silence seemed louder than usual. Martin had always filled the space effortlessly, whether he was talking, goofing around, complaining, or simply existing nearby.

Juhoon found himself staring at Martin's empty bed more often than he wanted to admit.

At some point that evening, he stopped pretending he wasn't worried.

He sat on the edge of his own mattress with his phone in hand and called again.

Voicemail.

"Idiot," he muttered.

The anger surprised him.

Not because he felt it, but because it hurt.

If Martin walked through the door right now, Juhoon was fairly certain he was going to yell at him.

After making sure he was alive.

Maybe.

The hours crawled by.

Midnight arrived.

Then one in the morning.

Juhoon eventually drifted into a restless half-sleep while still fully dressed.

A noise woke him.

The sound was so faint he almost dismissed it as part of a dream.

A scrape.

Then another.

His eyes opened.

For a moment he lay still, listening.

The room was dark except for the pale glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains.

Another noise came from the direction of the window.

Juhoon sat upright.

His heart immediately jumped into his throat.

Someone was climbing inside.

Before fear could fully register, the figure stumbled forward and collapsed onto the floor.

"Martin?"

The name escaped before Juhoon could stop it.

The figure froze.

Even in the darkness, Juhoon recognized him instantly.

Relief hit first.

It arrived so fast and so intensely that it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

Then came anger.

Pure, overwhelming anger.

Juhoon crossed the room in seconds.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Martin looked terrible. Now that Martin thinks back upon it, he feels sorry for the amount of times he’s made Juhoon worry like this. 

Martin’s face was pale beneath layers of bruising. A cut stretched across his cheek. His clothes were torn in multiple places, and there was dried blood on his sleeve.

The sight of it made Juhoon's stomach drop.

Martin opened his mouth.

"No."

Juhoon jabbed a finger at him.

"No. You don't get to talk yet."

Martin actually looked startled.

Juhoon rarely lost his temper.

Unfortunately for Martin, three days of terror had been quietly building toward this exact moment.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Juhoon demanded. "Three days. Three days, Martin. No calls. No texts. Nothing."

Martin stared at him.

For some reason, that only made Juhoon angrier.

"I thought something happened to you."

His voice cracked unexpectedly.

The room fell silent.

Juhoon hated that.

More than the anger. More than the fear.

He hated that tiny crack because it revealed far too much.

Something shifted in Martin's expression.

The exhaustion remained, but guilt appeared beneath it.

"Juhoon..."

The concern in Martin's voice finally broke whatever fragile restraint remained.

Juhoon punched him.

Not hard enough to actually hurt him.

Just enough to make a point. Juhoon probably wanted to stay angry.

He really did.

Unfortunately, Martin looked like he was barely staying upright. he fight drained out of him all at once.

Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Martin. The movement surprised both of them, and for a moment neither spoke.

Martin simply froze.

The knot that had been twisting inside Juhoon’s chest for three days finally began to loosen. And slowly, carefully, Martin hugged him back.

Juhoon could feel the hesitation. As though Martin wasn't sure he deserved the comfort. As though he wasn't sure Juhoon would still be there if he moved too quickly.

The realization hurt.

Martin rested his forehead against Juhoon's shoulder.

The gesture felt strangely vulnerable. In that moment, Martin was not Spider-Man. Not the hero everyone admired. Just Martin.

Tired. Hurt. Human.

And somewhere in that quiet moment, with Juhoon’s arms around him and his heart finally slowing after days of panic, Martin became aware of a truth he had been avoiding for months.

That he really was irrevocably in love with his best friend. 

🐢 

Martin types away on his laptop and their room is filled with comfortable white noise.

Juhoon puts down the book he’s reading. Okay. He’s like, 85% sure that Martin is Spider-Man now. 

When Martin Edwards Park happened in his life, he seemed fine at most, to Juhoon. Seemed like a typical popular fuckboy, parties, people, loved by all, (and maybe Juhoon had a crush on him. But he didn’t say that). Now two years have passed and Martin is still his roommate. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Okay, he guesses that small crush somehow developed into him being hopelessly in love with Martin but that’s not the point. Not important at all.

What’s important, however, is that Juhoon started noticing Martin would always appear and disappear at random times and this began way back during freshman year. One day, this boy would be in bed in the morning with nothing but boxers and another he would be found nowhere in school.

He would be tired during some mornings and Juhoon would notice parts of his body bruising. He didn’t ask why. Instead, he prepared breakfast for the both of them and while Martin ate, he lightened the mood by telling bad jokes. The laugh Martin let out every time was all he needed.

 Sometimes, the ‘What happened?’ slipped out of his mouth and Martin would stiffen and shakes his head. Nothing, he would say and Juhoon’s lungs will always feel tight.

Juhoon was also a night owl (Keonho said that’s not something to be proud of but whatever) so of course he would notice how Martin usually comes back in the dead of night when the dormitory is on lock-down.

Martin never got caught, anyways because he would climb through their window.

Impossible. Their school and their dorm building don’t have exterior stairs. He knows. He checks every morning.

Then came Spider-Man. The subtle mannerisms, how it’s as easy to talk to Spider-Man as it is to Martin. Their stature, their tone. Again, it may be wishful thinking, and maybe what Juhoon is having with Spider-Man is what he hopes could happen with Martin and him. 

Yes he wants Martin to swing him around New York, sue him. 

But with that, he concluded that Martin is Spider-Man.

Alright—so maybe Juhoon also found out when it was Laundry Day and when he was picking up clothes, he went up to Martin’s bed (they have a bunk bed) and squealed when he saw the familiar superhero attire. That is such a Martin thing. Only he would leave his superhero attire AKA the puzzle piece to his entire alter identity lying on his dorm bed.

(But Martin could have just be really into costumes so thus Juhoon’s observations are still valid. Juhoon will still not fully put his delusions to rest.)

Juhoon rolls onto his side, facing Martin who is still typing. He asks, “What are your thoughts on Spider-Man?”

Martin stops typing for a few seconds before continuing, “That’s a random question.”

“Answer me,” Juhoon demands.

“Well, he’s a cool guy. Saving people. Swinging from here to there at dangerous heights,” Martin clears his throat, “What do you think about him?”

“Other than the things you just said?”

Martin nods before grabbing the water bottle on his table and taking huge gulps. He’s still not facing Juhoon.

“He has a great body.”

Martin proceeds to choke on the water. Juhoon stands up to pat him on the back. He wheezes. “Y-You think so?”

“Yeah! Everyone can see those abs underneath all that spandex.”

He’s red in the face now and Juhoon wants to laugh but no, he must resist.

“I’m going to sleep now. Good night, Martin.”

There are a few beats of silence before Martin mutters, “…Good night.”

(Juhoon drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.)

“What’s this?” Seonghyeon pulls out Juhoon’s art book from out of his bag. Apparently, he was on a mission to find and steal candies from his bag. Keonho has the same habit but he’s working on the experiment on his own at the lab bench next to theirs.

Juhoon had taken some extra chemistry courses because he had nothing better to do. He is regretting that decision now.

“What’s what?” Juhoon asks as he titrates sodium carbonate with dilute nitric acid, careful to turn the tap of the burette slowly because it broke that one time and because of that, Mr. Hwang is always on the lookout for him.

“You drew these? They’re cute.”

Seonghyeon is complimenting on his doodles? A blessing. “Thanks.”

“You even drew Spider-Man… You have a crush on him!”

“What—”

“Martin!” Their classmate, Jungwon, yelps from the bench behind them when Martin accidentally spills the mixture on their lab paper. Wait, does Spider-Man have super hearing?

“Oh, shit. Sorry. I—”

“It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll get us another one.”

Never mind. Seonghyeon is just loud.

“Ah, Martin,” James says when Mr. Hwang walks out of the lab to retrieve another blank lab paper. “Were you always this careless?”

Martin’s ears turn red. 

“Leave him alone, hyung,” Juhoon defends, and turns around to face James who’s smart enough to continue with the experiment.

“Thank you,” Martin smiles at him and he feels like he’s won the lottery.

When Mr. Hwang enters the lab again, the floor shakes and there’s a booming sound from downtown. It happens once, then again, and again, and now everyone is talking with each other, others moving to the window to try and see what’s happening.

Keonho moved to their bench. “You think it’s those monsters from last week, but bigger and better now to take revenge?”

The floor shakes. Another booming sound but it sounds louder—still far but unmistakably louder.

Mr. Hwang clears his throat. “Alright everyone. Stay calm. I’m sure the authorities will handle it.”

Wonhee claps, jumping up and down, “Spider-Man! He’ll help us!”

Juhoon only realizes a few seconds later that Martin is long gone and the back door of the lab is wide open. 

🐢 

The amazing place to watch the sunset Spider-Man meant was on top of the Brooklyn Bridge. Juhoon swung from building to building just a few minutes ago. Every time he looks down, everything is tinier and that reminds him that he’s way up there and one wrong step could lead to –

“You’re not going to fall.”

Juhoon looks at Spider-Man, the winds making his hair look messy. “And if I do?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

He holds out his hand and Juhoon grabs it, smiling.

Minutes pass and he doesn’t exactly forget that he’s on top of Brooklyn Bridge because he only has to remember that Martin will catch him if something happens.

(Because Martin won’t let any probability of Juhoon falling happen.)

“I didn’t think my first date would look like this,” Juhoon jokingly says after taking a few shots of the sunset from his phone. The orange sky has now changed to dark blue and stars are splattered everywhere.

“You deserve the most extraordinary date ever,” Spider-Man stands up, “Take my hand.”

“What are we doing?”

“Trust me.”

Once Juhoon is on his feet, Martin places his hands on his waist. He spins him around and Juhoon yelps, hands clutching onto Martin’s shoulders. They dance like this, and Juhoon has two left feet but the moment feels so magical that he doesn’t mind. “Spider-Man… are you falling in love with me?” he jokes.

“…And if I am?”

God, if Juhoon could explain how in love he is. Maybe he’s feeling a little braver because he blurts out, “But I’m in love with my roommate. Slash best friend.”

“I understand,” Spider-Man says but there’s not a hint of sadness in his tone. “I knew you had a crush on him.”

“You sound happy.”

“Because I am.”

Without warning, Spider-Man grabs his waist before diving down.

“I’d like a warning next time,” Juhoon says when Spider-Man lets go of him. They landed just a few blocks from his favourite restaurant, he realizes. “What are we—”

He turns around. Spider-Man disappeared. Or maybe he turned invisible—he wonders if Martin has that ability. Shrugging, he begins to walk towards the restaurant. Before he could head inside, Martin comes up from the corner, running.

“Hey,” he pants, “Juhoon.”

“Hi?”

“Didn’t expect to meet you here.”

“Martin, this is my favourite restaurant.”

“What a coincidence!”

Juhoon can’t help but laugh. “Alright, since we’re both here, want to grab dinner?”

Martin opens the door for him, smiling, “After you.”

🐢..... 🦔? 

Juhoon is having lunch with Keonho and Seonghyeon when the news channel reports about an attack in Times Square. 

The first thought that crosses Juhoon’s mind is Martin. He is now 97.35% sure that Martin *is* Spider-Man. He may be an Arts student but he is still a believer of science, he knows better 100% on anything is stupid if you’re not super sure about it. 

Once they’re done and Juhoon bid his friends a see you later, he quickly walks back to his dorm, but gives up on his speedy when rain starts pouring in. Turning the corner and walking in an alley way (because it’s a shortcut), he almost lets a scream when Spider-Man greets him again, upside-down because Martin is a show off.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Juhoon says, like this is an everyday thing. “I saw you on The News. Quite a tough fight.”

Spider-Man hums, “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay because you know, you were near.”

“Times Square is 17 miles away from here. I’m starting to think you’re a stalker, Spidey.”

“Keonho told me – ah, fuck.”

“Keonho—? I didn’t know you were friends with him.”

“Are you saying I don’t have friends? Kim Juhoon, you wound me.”

“Tell me, Spider-Man. Am I the only civilian in New York you would personally make sure is alright, or it’s all because you’re in love with me?”

“I can’t answer that.”

Juhoon grins, “Martin.”

“Uh–”, Spider-Man sputters. “Was it that obvious?”

“A little.”

“Alright. Cool. Okay then, since the cat’s out of the bag—I love you.”

“You’re going to confess to me upside-down?”

“Hey, you confessed on top of the Brooklyn Bridge. Let me live. Where do I start? I’ve had the biggest crush on you since—what? Freshman year? Ever since we were roommates. And I don’t know if you noticed but I always come home late—”

“Through the bedroom window. And when I plushie blocked it, you chose the bathroom window.”

“You warms my heart,” he hits his chest dramatically, “that you would make sure to wake me up and make me breakfast. Sometimes you help me with Chemistry and don’t shout when I steal—borrow! Borrow your Chemistry notes because I couldn’t finish mine.

What am I saying? I’m having a hard time thinking right now. Anyways, other people see Spider-Man but you. You see Martin Edwards Park, and I appreciate that. I really like you. Really, really like you. I’m in love with you.”

Without missing a beat, Juhoon exclaims, “I love you, too, Martin Edwards Park! Jesus, your name is too long.”

“Good! Now kiss me before I die from lack of oxygen in my brain. The water in my nose is already killing me.”

Juhoon laughs. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

He grabs the end of Martin’s mask, slowly peeling the edges off to reveal smiling lips. He holds Martin’s cheeks, moving closer before pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Then, Juhoon presses their mouths harder against each other before pulling away slightly.

Martin smiles even wider and Juhoon swears he can see his eyes turn into the prettiest of crescent moons behind the mask, too.

“You have another mission to finish, Spidey?”

“The grind never stops.”

“Oh my God,” he laughs before pulling Martin back into another kiss—this time short. “Be careful, then.”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you the most.”

“…To be continued.”

“Of course,” Martin giggles, sort of drunk in love. “See you later!”

🐢🦔❤️ 

The room is quiet except for the hum of the old ceiling fan and the occasional sound of traffic drifting through the cracked window. Late afternoon sunlight spills across the blankets in golden strips, painting everything warm and lazy. Juhoon is stretched across his bed, half tangled in the sheets, with Martin hovering over him close enough that he can count every freckle across his nose.

They had started studying hours ago.

Neither of them has touched their textbooks since.

Juhoon smiles against Martin’s mouth as another kiss dissolves into laughter. Martin’s hand settles comfortably at his waist, familiar and easy in a way that still sometimes catches Juhoon off guard. For years, Martin had been his best friend. He had also been the infuriating superhero who kept disappearing in the middle of conversations. Now he is somehow both at once, and Juhoon still isn’t entirely sure how he got this lucky.

“You’re staring again,” Martin murmurs.

“I’m allowed to stare at my boyfriend.”

Martin rolls his eyes, though the corners of his mouth lift immediately. “That’s a dangerous amount of power to give someone.”

Juhoon reaches up to brush a strand of blond hair away from his forehead. “Good thing you’re responsible.”

“Have we met?”

Their laughter mingles together, soft and familiar. Juhoon leans forward to kiss him again, slower this time, and Martin melts into it without hesitation. There is something wonderfully ordinary about moments like this. No villains. No secrets. No masks. Just the two of them stealing an afternoon before classes start again on Monday.

Then Martin abruptly freezes.

Juhoon feels it instantly.

The change is subtle, but after nearly a year of dating, he recognizes it immediately. The slight tension in Martin’s shoulders. The distant look that flickers through his eyes.

The spidey-sense.

“Seriously?” Juhoon groans, dropping his head back onto the pillow.

Martin winces sheepishly. “I know.”

“You got approximately twelve minutes of peace.”

“I know.”

“I timed it.”

Martin lets out a helpless laugh before leaning down to press a quick kiss to Juhoon’s forehead. Another follows at the corner of his mouth, as though he’s trying to make up for leaving before he’s even gone.

Unfortunately, the sensation clearly isn’t fading.

With visible reluctance, Martin pushes himself upright and reaches for the hoodie draped over Juhoon’s desk chair. He pulls it on while searching for his mask, moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who has done this far too many times.

Juhoon watches him fondly from the bed.

A few months ago, he would have demanded answers. He would have worried himself sick until Martin came home.

Now he simply smiles.

“Be careful.”

Martin pauses in the middle of pulling on a glove.

The words still affect him every time.

His expression softens immediately as he crosses the room again, bends down, and steals one final kiss.

“I always am.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Okay,” Martin admits. “I’ll try to be careful.”

“Better.”

Martin laughs quietly before stepping toward the window. The familiar red mask disappears over his face, transforming him from Martin back into Spider-Man in the space of a heartbeat.

For a moment he lingers on the windowsill, the setting sun catching on the edges of his suit. Then he points at Juhoon.

“Don’t wait up.”

Juhoon snorts.

“You literally live here.”

“Fair point.”

A second later Martin is gone, swinging out into the evening sky.

The room falls silent once more.

Juhoon stares at the open window for a few seconds before shaking his head and smiling to himself. He reaches over, grabs one of Martin’s abandoned textbooks from the floor, and settles back against the pillows.

He’ll be back.

Martin always comes back.